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dialux · 3 years

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Feel free to completely ignore me, but I need to yell into the void and this particular void is nicer than the others.

You know how they completely destroyed Percy Jackson as a character when they made the movies? Like they just changed him ‘til he was a different person from the books and the fans hated it? This is how I feel about Tauriel.

Except with Percy Jackson they ruined already established characters and if you read the books then the “real” characters shine through. With Tauriel it’s like they set up something with great potential and then just let it fall and I feel fucking robbed. I think @actuallyfeanor talked about it once but having her openness and willingness to cooperate is a great juxtaposition to Thranduils more isonalist politics, and more power to PJ for adding some semi-realistic oc’s ya know? Plus it’s fun to have more ladies in the Movie!verse who actually take part in the fighting and just more elves who aren’t ancient and wise and all-knowing.

But then all her political opinions (and just opinions in general) turned out to be because she was in love with Kili, and they added a forced and contrived love triangle for ‘drama’ (also it felt like a way to ‘prove’ that Legolas was straight after all the gay ships in the lotr movies??? and that’s just gross all around) AND they completely butchered canon in the process?!??!

Like Thranduil was explicitly said to have embraced the ways of the woodelves in the books (I think his wife is Nandor?) but then he disapproves of Tauriel because she’s Sylvan and therefore lesser???? Thranduil is a lot of things, but bigoted against other elves isn’t one of them. And then! She goes and points an arrow at her own king because Girl Power I guess? But in context that just would not happen???? Like PJ that isn’t some power move that’s Kinslaying and elves just don’t do that casually! (Tauriel would absolutely get exiled if not outright executed for that seriously PJ what the Hell??!!?)

Sorry this is super long and probably incoherent but I’m just so fucking Tired of great concept characters getting butchered by people who don’t really seem to care about good storytelling and keeping to already established canon.

Alright, so I didn’t want to make this into a defense of the Hobbit movies- I still haven’t watched AUJ, so I’m... not the person for this, maybe- but I am nothing if not contrary, so here we go:

1. I actually liked the PJ film (I, again, have only watched one of them) (the only thing I remember from the movie is the scene with all the gods and goddesses at the very end- and, my god, was that a revelation of a scene)

2. I don’t, actually, think there’s much use in looking for similar themes and overarching plot devices from a movie than from a book. And the Hobbit films were handicapped from the very beginning with the desire to make them into multiple movies; there’s no room for character development as in a tv show but not enough material, really, for two films much less the third they ended up making. It was the worst possible decision they could’ve made.

3. I don’t think that Tauriel’s political opinions are motivated solely by Kili. I think he may have been a catalyst- by giving her that stone, by talking to her as less of an ancestral enemy and more as the dwarf that he is- but there are wider and more far-reaching implications to her politics. Not to mention that she has few compunctions about challenging Thranduil before she ever really has any relationship with Kili. The narrative tries its best to reduce Tauriel to a love interest, but it doesn’t achieve it.

4. When one of my aunts brought home a friend from college, my grandmother looked at his tall figure, looked at my 5′2″ aunt, brought her to the kitchen, and told her that she could study however she wanted so long as she didn’t fall in love with him, all because he was too tall for the wedding photos to be good. No, my grandmother did not- and does not- understand the point of height differences. And I’m not saying that Thranduil is like my grandmother, but I’m not not saying it, you know?

5. It is the Power Of Love that drove Tauriel to aiming that bow at Thranduil. Have you had your ancestral enemy to quasi-lover (that you couldn’t even bang to release some of that overwhelming tension) die in front of your eyes after trying to save you? No? Don’t judge then!!!!!!!!!

6. (On a more.... serious note: I don’t think threatening someone would lead to outright execution; there needs to be some, you know, follow-through on that threat.)

7. I do get your anger! There are numerous (SO MANY) times when I’ve just given up on media because the actual storytelling felt lacking, or weak, or- well, I don’t want to use the word exploitative, because I don’t think it’s meant that way and there needs to be motive for it to be that- but it certainly feels like it, doesn’t it? Like liking a character/looking for a meaningful ending/interacting with the source is being actively discouraged, over and over and over again. And I don’t have an answer for you on how to keep digging for those sparks of joy or meaning in a piece of work that feels increasingly meaningless: none except to say that there are 18929 works in the Hobbit films tag on AO3, and 6559 works in the LOTR films tag- and those 12000 more works are a product of the heartbreak and sadness and untapped potential that people like you and me saw in the Hobbit. The Hobbit ended: AO3 picked it up from there. That matters, because if nothing else, you’re in a community of other gremlins digging for bright things out of a morass of sludge.

#ppl should like more celine dion songs is what i'm trying to say #hobbit #dialux answers questions #you cannot stop spring from coming #Anonymous

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marvinswriting · 4 years

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scary damian scary damian scary damian scary d-

prompt: the title speaks for itself lmaooo thank you bear for dealing with me sending you every other paragraph to make sure i got the energy of the fic right orignal g/t mg

I shoved my phone into my pocket, approaching the tiny pick up zone. I felt bad pulling Damian out of class but I'd feel worse if I passed the fuck out from exhaustion and got him worried.

Nothing telling my teacher I'm going to the nurse won't fix.

I walked through the tiny halls, the unfinished ceilings and led beams hanging down. The occasional light flicker really setting in the horror genre feel. I tried not to concentrate on the hallway decor too much, it hurt more than anything. The half-assed drywall with bulletin boards hung occasionally. There were tiny lockers that went largely unused and some vending machines that haven't been refilled since I was a freshman.

I yawn, approaching the tiny pick up zone.

As expected, the hallways are quiet. The occasional student walks past but nobody pays me mind. I liked it better that way anyway.

I slumped against the wall, letting my head fall forward. I was exhausted. Don't know why. I actually got sleep last night. Can too much sleep make you more tired? Oh well. Gonna get more.

More footsteps pass the tiny pick up zone, but these ones pause before backtracking. I look up to see Shane Omen.

Because who else?

I lower my head again, too tired to deal with this.

"Yo, space dyke." Shane doesn't seem to happy to not get a reaction out of me. "I'm talking to you."

"Sure you are." I feel like I should be running, but my brain is sluggish and I don't feel any fight or flight kicking in. When I would normally be up on my feet, creating as much distance between us as possible, I'm just trying not to fall asleep.

I have enough energy left in my brain to know being unconscious around a giant, especially Shane Omen, isn't the smartest idea.

"Space Dyke." There's a hand reaching for me.

That makes me flinch backward but- its too late at this point.

Is it bad to call this interaction familiar at this point?

Because it was.

I made a noise of surprise as Shane grabbed me off the platform roughly. My hands weren't pinned at my side this time, as I fruitlessly tried to push his fingers off of.

They wrapped around my entire body even pinning my legs together.

"Shane, please!"

"Are all tinies as rude as you? Never respond when they're being talked to?"

"Shane-"

I was not in the mood. My body felt as though it would shut down at any second and this interaction was frankly sending me into overdrive. My brain was panicking, trying to stay awake, trying to find the strength to fight back, trying to find energy where there was none.

"I always find it amusing. You tinies are so big and bad with giants. But when you're alone- look what happens." Shane's fist tightens.

"Where's you giant, huh? Isn't that something you freaks do? You try and twist our words positively? Embrace it? Hate to break it to you, it doesn't seem to be working. You're still a pathetic annoyance."

Shane's right. Where is Damian?

"I could drop you right now," Shane says, and my blood runs cold. "It'd be ruled as an accident. They don't check the cameras about these things. You're just a tiny. You freaks fall off ledges all the time. Your name would be in the school newspaper this month and then never spoken about again."

Shane's grip loosens and while it's normally a welcoming sign, I struggle to find purchase, grabbing at his fingers, not wanting to fall.

"Shane, please."

"Please what?"

“Please, get your hands off my tiny."

Both Shane and I turn to the new voice. I could cry in relief. There stood Damian walking down the halls. He looked pissed but I knew him long enough to see he was as scared as I felt.

Damian never said 'my tiny'. I called him my giant, sure, and he knew I was his tiny, but he always said despite it being embraced among tinies, he felt like he was taking ownership of a valuable life. Which was totally valid and I understood, but to hear him say it now put a smile on my face, despite the situation I was in.

The smile didn't last long as Shane's fingers once again tightened painfully around my body.

"And why should I?"

Damian was in front of us now. Shane wasn't short, but he wasn't tall. Damian was tall. He glared down at Shane.

Holy shit.

None of my giant friends were fighters. Yeah, Cady has verbally chewed out some people, Gretchen has paid jocks to beat up others, but none of our giants were physical. But right now? Damian looked fully ready to throw hands.

"Please hand me Janis." He held out his hand expectantly and for a second I thought Shane was just gonna comply. His grip loosens and his hand moved forward slightly before pausing. "No."

Shane said it with the authority of the girls on TikTok who bully people in the comments, saying no and throwing a heart emoji after.

"I'm sorry?" Damian's voice was low. Like the night Cady threw the part, but this time he wasn't trying to hide his anger or keep calm. "I heard what you said. About dropping her? Yeah, I think it's clear I'm not gonna let you do that. What you said counts as a threat by the way. If Janis wanted to report you, they'd check the cameras and you'd get into some serious trouble."

Shane seems metaphorically cornered for a second. Only a second.

God, I'm so fucking tired. I just want to be in Damian's pocket, where it's warm and safe and I can sleep, god damnit.

I can't tell if it's the total exhaustion or Shane's tight grip on me but my vision feels like its fogging up-

Oh my god, I can't breathe.

How fucking tired do you have to be to notice you're not breathing?!

I let out a very incoherent plea and both giants look down at me.

"You're hurting her."

"Am I?"

"Knock it off dude. Let her go that's not funny."

"Let her go you say?"

The fingers wrapped around me are suddenly gone as I let out a gasp of surprise and for air. Shane Omen fucking dropped me. Wow.

I didn't fall far before landing on another hand. I knew it was coming but that didn't make me any more prepared as I land with an ungracious thump.

I'm not held by Damian for long as he gently places me on the tiny pick up zone. As much as I love Damian, I'm grateful to be back on solid ground as I stumble backwards leaning against the wall.

"What the fuck is your problem, Shane." Damian isn't bothering to hide his anger at this point.

Shane takes a step back, his hands going up in defense. "Chill dude. It's just a tiny. I don't understand why you get so upset. You're like the only one who gives a shit about space d-"

Shane didn't get to finish his sentence as Damian suddenly swings his arm, fist connecting with jaw.

I jump back, out of surprise more than anything.

Holy fuck.

I suddenly felt a lot more awake and in tune with the situation going on in front of me.

Damian never got violent. He was always the teddy bear friend. But this teddy bear had one good right hook. Where did he fucking learn that?

My illusion of big scary Shane Omen is broken as Damian towers over him, Shane bending over, hand on jaw. If anything, it's Damian who looks scary right now.

That's something I never thought I'd say.

Damian shakes his fist out like he's trying to flick away the pain. "Don't ever talk about Janis like that again. If you or any of your friends use that nickname again, I'll-"

"We won't!" Shane is quick to reassure. "Swear on it, dude. Uh- Damian. We- we won't."

Damian doesn't seem convinced at this as he continues to glare at Shane. Shane turns to me and I instinctively flinch back. He raises his hand in defense.

"Sorry- Janis."

I don't think I've ever heard Shane call me Janis before? It's always been space dyke. Woah.

"I'm," Shane points behind him, skittishly. "I'm gonna go now, so-" He doesn't finish his sentence, just turns and speed walks down the halls.

The second he's out of slight, the pressed lips and stiff posture fade and Damian looks a lot more- well, Damian.

"Are you okay?" His voice is back to a hushed concern. I jump regardless.

"I'm fine. Now." I say slowly. My brain feels like it's rebooting from what I've witnessed. It needs time to let the files load.

Damian punched somebody.

Damian punched Shane Omen.

Shane Omen was scared of Damian.

Damian Hubbard the dude who wouldn't hurt a fly if he was paid to, punched Shane. Omen.

And it was equally a mix of badass and scary.

I never thought I would call Damian scary. He hates being viewed as scary. And for the most part, he's not. But that? That was scary even if it wasn't directed to me.

"Janis?"

My head snaps up. Damian looks nothing like he did thirty seconds ago. Now he stood timidly, like he was afraid to move and set me off. "I know you don't like yelling. I'm sorry."

I nod. "Thank you for coming when you did."

I pushed down all uneasiness I had. It frankly made me feel guilty. It was just Damian. He wouldn't hurt me. I didn't think he'd hurt Shane Omen either but-

No.

It's Damian.

"You really had Shane ready to piss his pants," I say lightheartedly. "It was tits, dude."

Damian chuckled nervously. "I just saw him holding you and I got so nervous and I-"

"Hey hey hey-" I rush to the edge of the platform. "I'm here right now. I'm okay."

Yeah, it was pretty scary watching Damian tower over his peers aggressively. But it was also badass. And if Cady did the same I'd be gay. But the Damian I'm seeing right now? That's my best friend who would never hurt me. That's my platonic soulmate who goes out of his way to keep me safe.

Which he was doing earlier, just in a new way.

Damian scoops me up, holding me to his chest. I can feel his heartbeat slightly faster than normal.

He was as worried as I was.

Just being held by Damian and the familiarity of being safe was all I needed for the exhaustion to set in again.

"I'm gonna fall asleep." I mumble.

Damian laughs. "That is why you called me to pick you up, right?"

"Yeah," I say sleepily.

Damian shifts me into the familiar chest pocket and there's some rustling as I assume he puts on the whit pin before we're off.

There's a couple of things we should talk about. Like him punching Shane Omen for starts. Or Damian calling me his tiny for the first time. But right now it's nap time.

Back to Damian's English where I can fall asleep without worry of Shane. Not that I think I'll be worrying about Shane for a while.

bear told me i write shane omen well and i guess that just means i make a good fucking villain lmao- also was damian at least a little in character? i tried. @realmisspolarbear @musicallygt @smallsoysauce

#g/t mean girls #tiny janis #giant shane #giant damian #GIANT S C A R Y PROTECTIVE DAMIAN #HELL YEAH

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istheresomebodywhocanimagine · 5 years

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Late Nights, Early Mornings (PT. 1)

anonymous said: Anything w/ Bri cause he’s the cutest please xxx

(a/n: I actually wrote this a while ago and figured no one on here would like it but since it’s a multi-part brian piece and we luv brian, I might as well post it. buckle in, girls and gays. I have part 2 mostly fleshed out, its just a matter of finishing it. should be up in a few days hehe)

“What kind of all-nighter is this if Brian isn’t fucking here?” Roger asked irritably, sitting behind his drumset in his room off of the main recording area. “Wah wah, boo hoo, I’m tired! So am I! What makes him special?”

You sighed, trying not to laugh at how Roger looked when he was angry. Despite the rage, he still looked like a small animal on the defensive.

“I suppose I can swing by his flat and see if he’s still awake?” you offered, wanting desperately to get away from Roger anyways. Also, going to see Brian would brighten up your day a bit. He was quickly becoming your favorite of the group, Roger being a lot to handle on the daily while Brian was relatively low maintenance and very sweet when you got him alone.

Giving you a nod, Roger continued to look sour as he returned his focus to the drumset, and when you turned around, John was giving you a look that said ‘Why do you put up with him?’

“I’ll go along with Y/N,” Freddie offered, but someone pointed out that he still had to do some testing before they started recording. Giving you a sad look, Freddie apologized and sent you out on your own to retrieve Brian. You didn’t mind, anyways. You needed some fresh air, and Brian’s flat wasn’t too far from the studio, so you opted to walk.

Along the way, you stopped for some coffee, and when you showed up to Brian’s door, you found it unlocked. Carefully balancing the coffee in one arm and hand, you knocked on the door before letting yourself in, at least giving him some semblance of a warning.

“Bri?” you called out, shutting the door behind you and sitting the coffees on the counter before wandering through his lounge to get to the hallway. You heard something in the bedroom, so you went up to the door and knocked softly.

“One moment,” was Brian’s soft reply from the other side of the door, so you returned to the lounge and plopped down on the couch, laying your head back and closing your eyes to get a tiny bit of rest. After a minute, he walked out into the lounge, and you opened your eyes to see his tall, lanky figure, his hands working on buttoning his shirt. He was still in his jeans from today, but he looked like he’d just started getting ready for bed.

“Christ, now I almost feel bad,” you blurted out, looking at him guiltily. Your heart clenched a bit, partly because you felt terrible for him and partly because he admittedly looked kind of cute like this. Very homey. “Forget I was here, I’ll just tell Roger to suck it up for a night and record without the guitar.”

“Roger throwing a fit?” Brian asked, giving a half-hearted smile as he looked over to the counter, rubbing the deep five-o’clock shadow that was forming on his jaw. “And you brought coffee – I assume I’m being summoned?”

You nodded, smiling a bit sheepishly and scooting over as he grabbed his shoes and came over to sit down so he could pull them on. He moved a bit slower than usual as he tied them, quite sleep-deprived from last night’s session with just him and Freddie recording. You’d come along with Roger tonight for moral support, seeing as you were usually just their tour audio engineer and you were on break for a while since they wanted you fresh for their tour coming up. He’d convinced you to come so you could give your famous shoulder rubs if he got sore, and he promised to buy you drinks as payment.

“Since I feel like I could pass out right here, can you grab my little black journal from my bed in my room? It’s got my notes for the recordings in it.” You nodded, getting up and heading to his bedroom to grab it really quick as he grabbed a coat and Red Special.

When you got to his room, you found it a mess, but decided against chastising him for it and instead made your way over to his bed. The problem you encountered when you got there was that there were two little black journals, so you grabbed both and decided to ask questions later. Joining him in the lounge again as you put the journals in your pocket, you grabbed the coffees before both of you made the short trek back to the studio. Upon entering, Roger make an exaggerated noise of surprise.

“I thought you were too tired!” he sneered, earning a smack on the back of the head from you in response. You handed Brian his coffee as Roger pouted, and produced the first of the two journals, which he seemed to recognize as his notes, so you left the other in your pocket.

“Good evening to you too, Rog,” Brian replied, his voice softer but still salty.

“Brian, darling, come here for a second. I want to get your opinion on this,” Freddie interjected, not letting any more bickering start tonight. John gave you another one of his looks, then kept fiddling with his bass.

You perched on the back of the couch, sipping your coffee as you watched everyone do their thing, Brian hovering over whatever Freddie was looking at near the tapes. Roger came over and placed himself between your legs, sitting back against you before looking up at you.

“How’d you convince him to come?” Roger asked, just loud enough for you to hear. “Did you use your magic lady powers?” he teased, making weird sparkly finger hand gestures.

“Coffee,” you replied simply, raising your cup before taking another sip. “You do know that if Freddie and him are here tonight, they won’t be tomorrow night?”

Roger groaned, looking forward towards the recording booth and resting his head against your left thigh. “We’re never going to get this record done,” he lamented.

“You will, these things just take time, drama queen.” Roger grumbled incoherently at your little name for him, and you sat your coffee to the side as you began to braid a small section of the back of his hair. He closed his eyes and let you do it, Brian soon finishing whatever Freddie was needing and joining you both on the couch so he could get Red Special ready.

“Am I next?” Freddie chuckled, referring to Roger’s braid that you were wrapping in rubber band you had around your wrist. You smiled softly, finishing up the braid before looking up at Freddie and scrutinizing his hair.

“I suppose I could give you all a braid, though I’m not sure Deacon would enjoy it.” John chuckled a bit at that, shaking his head as he sat his bass to the side. You then looked at Brian, and pursed your lips as you rested a hand on the top of his head. “And I’m not sure how I could even navigate this.”

Brian hummed with amusement, looking up at you and giving you a small smile before continuing his work on Red Special. “Good luck,” was all he said, scooting forward to give you room to sit behind him. You moved over so that he was now resting between your legs instead of Roger. Chewing your lip in concentration, you starting trying to figure out what hair was even the same length.

As you figured this out, they were finally ready to record, so you pouted as you had to give up on Brian’s hair for now. “Promise you’ll come back so I can actually braid it,” you stated, holding out your pinky. Brian smiled lopsidedly, his eyes crinkling up a bit and making him look not so exhausted as he pinky-promised you.

You slid down to sit on the regular part of the couch, pulling what you recognized as Freddie’s coat over you and laying down. They began recording sections of a song Freddie and Brian had partially constructed the night before, and you didn’t realize how tired you truly were until you woke up to the sound of the door opening, only Freddie walking in. You sat up for a moment and let him sit down where your head was, then you rested your head on his thigh and got comfortable again.

“What’d I miss?” you asked drowsily, yawning a bit. Freddie shook his head, also yawning and stretching a bit.

“Not much. I’m just resting my pipes a bit. Go back to sleep, lovie,” he said, starting to attempt to braid your hair in an effort to keep himself awake.

“Bollocks, I know it was in here,” you could hear Brian over the intercom, and you could just see him rifling through his notebook for something he missed in the last run through. Remembering the notebook in your pocket, you pulled it out and you were about to get up to offer it to him over the intercom when Freddie made you stop in your tracks.

“Why on Earth have you got Brian’s journal?” he asked, looking at the little black book in your hands like it was a precious crown jewel. “He wouldn’t even let me peek at that on tour and he just gives it to you?”

You shook your head, suddenly afraid of the journal, so you handed it to Freddie. “I grabbed it off his bed, it looked like his other journal and I didn’t know which was which. Am I in deep shit, Fred?”

Freddie started rifling through the pages, apparently unbothered by the fact that he was intruding on Brian’s personal thoughts. Your question went unanswered as he started mumbling words to himself, reading a passage halfway out loud.

“This is from last night, my God,” Freddie stopped to observe, pointing to the date. “This man updates his journal religiously, I haven’t even looked at mine in weeks because of this damned record.” You tried to subdue your curiosity about what he had to say about last night, seeing as you’d thought it was mostly an uneventful night. Freddie started reading some of it out loud, though, which only piqued your interest. “Had a late night recording with Fred, Y/N, and some others. We got a few of the songs started and knocked one out, but the one took forever because Fred kept being a tart.”

You burst out laughing at Freddie’s face when he read that, a look of pure insult spreading across his features. Quickly throwing a hand over your mouth, you apologized quickly. “Keep reading though,” you urged, wanting to hear what Brian had to say about Freddie’s little fits he had last night.

“He wanted to redo the same part over and over, and we were all getting tired of it. I asked him what was wrong with it and he went on and on about not being able to feel out that part of the song because of my guitar playing. Y/N thought it was quite a hoot, she looked quite…” Freddie trailed off, suddenly snapping the journal closed and shoving it down his shirt so you couldn’t get it. “That’s enough of that,” he said quietly, avoiding eye contact and crossing his arms.

“What the fuck, Freddie?” you asked, trying not to be too loud as the sound tech at the board talked to Brian through the mic. “What did it say?”

“It said Brian thinks I’m a tart, that’s it,” Freddie replied, evading the subject and refusing to look at you. You scowled, then started tickling Freddie, who yelled out in surprise and then started writhing and laughing, trying to keep you from getting the journal but failing miserably. You had your hand up his shirt, just getting ahold of the book when you heard John’s voice come over the speaker.

“You alright, you two?” he asked, both him and Brian standing at the window that was between you and them. Oh shit.

PT. 2 PT. 3

#brian may x reader #brian may imagine #brian may #queen #queen imagine

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bloodandrosesarenofun · 5 years

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Dear Diary.

🎶Medicine - Daughter🎶

I started this blog as a way to keep track of my thoughts. To vent you know? The one place I could be emotional and be myself outside of people. Hell. Truthfully I didn't think those people could let me be me either.

This past few months, have been hell and heaven all in one. My brother and I don't fight so much anymore, and we support each other again, that's all I've wanted for a long time for us. We talk and we watch videos and we find ways to be deep when we don't speak. I feel better about it. My mum, is just as difficult I think. She does things like go out of her way to support my friend in ways she won't even support me. Or cry in the kitchen telling us about her depression but dismissing and belittling my mental state. She's hard to deal with, and I know I shouldn't be, but when she said she has depression, I felt so angry at her. How does she get to say that? To feel emotions so publicly? When she tells me things like I'm crazy, like I'm attention seeking, like I'm just some stupid kid, and not her child. My best friend of five years, they left me. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, and maybe I left them. The relationship had gotten so toxic, and she had gotten so cruel. Saying things to me like I would never be enough to notice it was wrong, how he never loved me. How he can't. He invited me to say something to him, essentially to groval at his feet. It was a lot to say no. When he'd said how horrible of a person I am. A lot of people have said that this past year. Even my parents. Wirt, he's something special. I feel lighter when I'm with him. Ever since warped tour it's like we could talk endlessly for days without ever getting tired of each other or running out of things to say. We've been almost inseparable in that we text near everyday at least once, and we see each other often. I've gotten so much out of being around him, and I think this is the first time I've felt so heavily that I love the person I am around somebody. I love who I am with him. I am myself with him. But I glow, I'm happy, I don't get happy for long. The other night I went to see him, and we spent twelve straight hours just talking, uninterrupted, smiling and laughing even when I didn't think I could. He saw me have an anxiety attack out of nowhere and despite my visit being to make sure he was okay, he took care of me. I found something I've never had in him. Kaneki, my other friend, has actually oddly I think gotten clouser. He's been around since we were fifteen with nowhere to go, and he's here when we're eighteen with only an idea of where we want to go. He opened up to me about his depression and I always knew, we sort of talked around it, but it feels nice to know he can tell me. It may seem dreary, but it was a way to open the year with trust. I feel like he's a friend I need, I'm thankful to have him in my life. Both my dads..they're a subject all their own and it's a mess. I still don't go to mi abeula y abeulo's house. I still have trouble talking to my grandparents at home, but I stand up for myself more. I sing louder. I'm picking back up my instruments and language. I'm depressed right now.

I think my parents may get a divorce.

I haven't written in this blog like this in a while, and I don't know if it was the depression making me feel like it's a chore, or there being too much to write. But since the last time I did, it seems crazy to have turned this blog into a writerblr, but it makes sense. Because what better way to be who I am than through my art? I'm not going to stop journaling though, because in an odd way it's apart of my writing, it's a part of my art. Art is all I know what to do with the heartache and the water, when I'm not hurting myself. I've been clean for a long time.

I almost broke, the other night, but I didn't. Because of Wirt, or because of Kaneki, or because I made it so far, or because I remember being happy I'm not sure. Maybe because of them all. I thought of how to hide the scars, where to do it, how they'd heal before I saw Wirt so he wouldn't know, I planned it all. Then I didn't. I feel a strength in that. There's a strength in that.

Tonight is a hard night. I think my mum triggered a really hard hitting depression bought, she all but called me a little runaway when I came home from Wirt's. You know, when he had to drive my ass home because I was too incoherent to pick myself off his floor let alone take my bus route home alone in the dark for at least an hour. Or wait downtown at night for an hour if my bus ran early. But I didn't tell her that, and instead of asking she simply assumed. That I didn't call on purpose or I didn't leave his house to spite her. To be vindictive and better than everyone because I see people as pawns. She said how I lie, and how she knows how I am because I'm a runaway, and how I'm naive, and how I think the world is great. As I'm coming down from an anxiety attack. That I can't tell her about. That Wirt checked on me and took care of me and drove me home for, but my mother would blame on me, or say it's a trick, or say I overreact to things. Always trying to make up problems. In the eyes of so many that should have only loved me, I am arrogant and cruel. Wirt and Kaneki are some of the only people I never feel see me that way. That I feel safe around. And my teachers. I still remember Timothy scolding the other children for calling me a girl, because I couldn't talk for myself. That'll never leave me. None of those moments will. They get me through these days.

I feel scared, because I have a meeting with one of my teachers I'm not out to, and I think I may tell her. I want poetry to be honest. I don't want to have to stifle myself or dance around pronouns, but I feel so new, and talking is hard again. I guess it's just something I have to re-learn. I've done it before.

I'm also scared, because I like Wirt, I think I do. I don't know if that feeling is going away, or if he feels the same, and it scares me, because I don't want things to be different between us, but if he does I don't want him to think I don't? I've never had a boyfriend, or a girlfriend, or significant other. I don't know what to do here or how to tell. It takes me forever to develop a crush, and little things don't last long, but there's something about him. I want to keep him as close as we are, I don't want to ruin it. But can I just gush for a moment? He's beautiful. As a person and physically. His eyes are the kind of green I want to find the right paints to recreate, and he's soft but he's resilient and stands his ground, and his hair changes colours from the dyeing in the nicest ways, it's wavy and messy and it fits him. He's got the cutest way of doing small things. The way he says my name when I've done something ridiculous, or gives his surgergical bandages quizzical looks, or complains about things in the kindest ways he can find so he doesn't hurt anyone, or laughs, or awes at me and points out my endearing traits. It's almost like he's looking at a puppy, and I get- shy? But I don't tell him to stop it like I do with everyone else. I don't feel as defensive, and I want to be better around him, I never feel like the kicked puppy in the street side. It's nice. I love the way we understand each other and the way we look at each other and the way we laugh together and take care of each other and aren't afraid to say we love each other. I've never had something like him. The things I do. Like we were in his car, and everything had closed it was late, but we rolled the seats back and leaned back in his car, and we wound up getting kind of quiet, and watching each other, smiling because we were having such a good time and also because the stareing should've been awkward, and all I wanted to do was lean over and kiss him. I kept wondering if it was okay, and being grateful the car was so dark in case my face and neck went red (for any one who's read Life and Death I blush as easily and much the same way as Beau), and if he ever looked at my lips and thought of kissing me too. I wanted him holding me when I was having a rough time. I want to just drive somewhere with him, screaming because life is exasperating some days and laughing because we have each other though, this whole week because I'm exasperated. I told him, and I can't beileve I did, when we were having a r o u g h night and finally found each other after getting lost "I hate our fucking lives! We are the best thing we have in our lives. We are all we have going for us, just each other." and I said it because my heart was in my throat and we'd gotten lost in not the best place at not the best time and spent hours either waiting, searching, or screaming and had each other's backs through the whole escapade and I'd had a shitty month and he had too and work was eh and our plans had been smashed with a hammer but we were still there, so by that point that's how I felt. I know, a mad man's sentence. But at the time I barely had any time to think about it because he was screaming too and we were just trying to drive away. Every time I think about him in a less than platonic way I just- get scared I'll ruin it, but think about if it works? Gods. I'm like a gay cliche fic but with two demisexuals. Diary it's almost six a.m. and I should sleep. As to be expected the depression won't let me sleep much. Hopefully that'll change soon. I'm sure I'll be back writing regularly so. I have so much shit to blab about and expand on.

It's sad though, that I'm already crying again.

But it's that weird sort of crying? That I have depression and I don't feel it but my face is leaking gently crying. I hope this feeling goes away soon.

Me and Wirt are planning a trip to the next town over, and I'm just hoping to have some trip where we sleep over soon. Not for sex potential, gods no we're very ace leaning and he's been walking around with his shirt off for days yet I feel like nothing (try wooing a rock and you got me. That's my difficulty level), but because when you sleep around someone there's something that's said there. That you guys maybe never would have said other wise. He'd maybe probably know about my tossing and turning and my insomnia and how I cry and just want to be held or gold somebody so I use things like my Shamoo plushie or the big bear my mum's ex gave her that she gave me (can we honestly get some positivity for the fact this is potentially not as a weird a thing at my age like when you have s e v e r e depression?) and that I need specific pillows to sleep and maybe probably that I have a tendency to if things are super bad or I'm in an unfamiliar space scream, cry, yell, thrash, or say things that aren't the most cheery and least disturbing in my sleep. I'd maybe probably learn about equally as well kept secrets he has. We may tell each other things we never would've shared before. I find that there's something about when you know you won't leave each other till the daylight, about three a.m. conversations and waking up to each other in the morning. Something vulnerable. I don't know if I trust him with all that yet, if I can tell him, or let him see me when I don't let anyone else. Anxiety attack was wow, impressive that I trust him that much, that I knew he wouldn't hurt me or make it worse when it's so ingrained in me that that's all people do. But I'd be so scared to sleep, scared to wake him with my screams, or wake up too close to him because I move in my sleep, or wake him up with something disturbing. The last unfamiliar place I slept in I literally slept on the floor to keep people from being disturbed and because I am that uncomfortable sleeping in the bed with people (but I think weirdly if I was okay with this I'd be shyly okayyyy with sharing a bed if needed? Like I wouldn't be dramatic about it in a "I'll just sleep on the floor" but maybe in a "are you sure-?" About ten times) and I woke up like- breathing heavily and saying "Stop! Stop! Stop!" and I'd bruised my arm hitting it on something and I think I was crying and I had to sit by someone else for a while and calm down before I could go back to sleep like holy shit it was bad I was literally shaking. THAT is probably alarming if anyone had woken up like whoever shares a bed with me needs a whole ass like debriefing beforehand because I seem like I'm on some shit but my mental state can just genuinely get t h a t bad. Screaming and crying and actually injuring myself in my sleep bad. I really wonder if anybody else has these problems like ask me how often I slept over at anyone's house? These issues have been with me for years.

Maybe I dread and look forward to it.

No. I think just- as fucked up as I am and as much as he's told me about how he gets at night I think it'd be a mess? But equally. Like both of us doing weird and concerning shit but also both of us supporting each other and loving each other and so it's okay in a way. So I feel like it'd be insane to be at that level with him where we'd be completely comfortable with showing each other that side of ourselves and comfort each other without judgement. I know me and Kaneki have had the weirdest conversations at those late times.

I'm a late times person.

💤

Until next time,

LHayes

Sign off.

#depression #lhayes #sad #stress reliver #writing #journal #things i write #anxiety #lgbtq #tagging mainly for myself #self harm #self love #friendship #love

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anxiousresearchraptor · 7 years

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Of Fears and Presidents

Attention: long, incoherent, ramblings including mistakes ahead.

First of all, I need to state a few premisses: I don't think that immigration politics are done properly and effectively. I don't think that our politicians are doing the best they could to care for their people, and I do think that most of them have stopped to understand what life is, if you're living off of literally nothing for months, struggling to pay the rent. But, being german, I am happy to live where I live – to profit from health care, education, state support and a level of unprecedented freedom of speech, travel and self-expression, which most people seem forget that we have. (We’re a lot of things, but oppressed? Nope, not at all.) And I am content to have someone like Angela Merkel as head of state, someone with whose ideas I might not always agree, but who has changed the image of Germany – on the outside and within. Germany as a free, wealthy, fair but also rather unassuming country, with Angela Merkel, as a fair, somewhat straightforward head of state who's hard to knock off her course. Still, not all is well, and I have grown up in a country torn asunder by world wars, fascism and two opposing political concepts that, in the end, produced two societies which still – sort of – remain. One that adhered to "traditional western thought", dealt with its past and rebuilt itself from a scratch and one, in which fascism was not spoken of or "resolved", in which the people faced dire punishments for misbehaviour, in which most of the wealth produced was handed to a certain few or shipped off to pay restoration payments to the UdSSR. And it’s in the latter society – that still sees itself as some sort of “second class society”, “the east” – that I grew up in. The generation of my parents does have nationalistic tendencies. They are afraid of immigrants, of gays, of globalization, of "the west taking over", of losing something unnamed that gives them stability. Few of my generation grew out of this mindset. I had trouble growing away from it.

And I do understand that we live in a world that is increasingly unstable and uncertain. That is complex, and terrifying, in which we have so many choices but no idea how and what to choose. A world, in which traditional, stable concepts are breaking up, in which we have to actively construct our safe haven. In which the truth does not count, but emotions do. In which sprouting lies has never been easier. A world, in which we must step out from our place of passive consumption and actively construct what we want, what gives us a place in the world. It's this passiveness, our own comfort, that has brought us to this day, to this very week. I remember that years ago, when, in school, we spoke of Goebbels speeches and why these people were so successful, and I remember most of us scoffing at the very thought of politicians succeeding nowadays with that sort of fear-mongering. I presume none of us is scoffing now. Because suddenly our daily world is filled with fear, hatred and exclusion. Suddenly, what we had called 'stupid fears' have become real. Back then we had numbers that showed us that the fear wasn't necessary in the 30s, that it was entirely uncalled-for. Now, we have numbers but we choose not to believe them. We're filled with unnamed rage, with mistrust, with hatred for everything that eludes our carefully established boxes. Political affiliations have become a reason to shun and bully others, to call them names, to beat them up, to officially defame them. It is en vogue to shout at politicians, to call for their imprisonment, to question their sanity. It's suddenly okay, to preach "traditional family concepts", to shun, question, attack and demonise those that do not conform to it. It's okay for some to commit unnameable crimes without punishment and for others to be punished severely for the slightest infringement. It's also okay to revert back to women-in-the-kitchen thought, or to tell others that one life matters less than another, and "scientifically prove" that women are less intelligent, more prone to emotional outburst, unable to perform high-ranking jobs, or that black people are reproducing differently, are wild, untamed and animalistic. Welcome back, to the 19th century. And what makes it worse is, that it's en vogue on a global stage. It's okay if politicians, heads of state, do it. It's okay if they talk down, mock or bully people. But it's not. It's so not okay. It's not okay that Trump is president. It's terrifying. It's not okay that nationalists feel suddenly stronger, better, and more able to spread their propaganda and say loudly, openly that some people should be shot. It is sobering. It's not okay, that some politicians have stopped to care for all their people, listening to their views, fears, and thoughts – and it's not okay, that others lead the public on by pretending to do just that. I want an open, political discourse that deals with uncomfortable truths and possible solutions in order to soothe our worries. I want people to stop searching for simple "truths" because there are none. I want people to work together, to exchange ideas, to support those that need our support instead of excluding them. I want, that politicians start to take us and others seriously even if we're not profitable. I want a strong defense against those that are trying to tear down freedom. And: I, myself, am afraid. Afraid, that none of this will happen, because comfort is valued more than facing your own fears. Afraid, that Trump will only be a start of worse things to come. Afraid, that I'll be drowning in simple truths, mistrust and a mass of conformity that is labeled "authenticity and individuality". Afraid that people will tire to be uncomfortable, tire to stand up and fight for women's right, black lives, LGBTQ rights, and so much more. Afraid, that more people will join and regard others as meat, as prey, as lesser human beings. But most of all, and I say this, having those in mind that seek to wear us down, to make us believe in their lies: you will not succeed. You might try and govern us, but you will not rule our minds, our hearts. You will not wear us down. All those, whom you seek to silence shall speak out loud. All those, whom you seek to suppress will rise up stronger than before. You will not succeed. And we will not be defeated.

#Inauguration #nationalism #women's rights #present #black lives matter #2017

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